


It's Not Like I Missed You

by StarSpangledBucky



Series: BeckWatney [5]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Confessions, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Lots of tears, M/M, Mark Watney Is Alive, Pining, Pining Chris Beck, Short Prompt Fic, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:45:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6166333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/StarSpangledBucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris finally let's the wall break that he hid behind after Mark's 'supposed' death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Like I Missed You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back again with more BeckWatney! 
> 
> Again this is from a prompt thing on Tumblr. Using numbers and phrases. For this one it was: 
> 
> 34\. "It's not like I missed you or anything."

Chris can’t find it in himself to look at Mark as he arrives back to the safety and familiarity of the Hermes spacecraft. The guilt won’t subside from when he made the call that Mark Watney was supposedly dead after the sandstorm. Yet there he was, taking off his EMU, exhausted but very much alive and well. He’d have to be evaluated, health wise, he looked dangerously malnourished and parched from his ordeal. And Chris knew he would have to be the one to do it, he was the doctor of the crew after all. But seeing the state of Mark only brought back bad memories of leaving him behind on Mars.

_“Mark is dead…”_

_All Chris could remember after making the call was finding a quiet, space on Hermes to lean against the wall and mourn. He hadn’t cried how he did for Mark that day, in a long time, blinded by tears and sobbing so loud he’d been amazed that nobody else heard him. Or maybe they knew they had to leave him alone to grieve._

Now he only felt guilt and anger all wrapped up in one. Guilt for leaving Mark, the anger for himself for not even having a small ounce of hope that Mark might still be alive. Then there was an emotion he had hidden away, one that ate away at him ever since he met Mark. Most of the crew knew of Chris’ harboured feelings for Mark, it wasn’t like he kept it secret. Chris always found himself staring at Mark for a little longer than he should be, he found himself dreaming about Mark or barely sleeping because of him.

For what it was worth there wasn’t a day that went by during his mourning process where he felt guilt for not telling Mark how he felt. Chris couldn’t imagine the pain of losing Mark if he were something more to him. But that was even if Mark returned the feelings mutually. Something that Chris knew was too far from his reach, something he had to live with. It still didn’t heal the hole in his heart quick enough, but lessened the heartache he felt.

Chris eventually built a wall around himself, hardly talked, ate less from thinking too much about Mark and ended up getting stuck in a strange loop with his sleeping pattern. His crew members were concerned, but trying to talk to him was like talking to a stone wall refusing to crumble. He wanted Mark back, he wanted to hear his voice, his laugh, his constant swearing. And he got it, he got that want…that _wish_ for Mark to miraculously be alive for Chris to see with his own eyes.

But he wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t ready to lay his eyes back on Mark, the man he was still very much in love with, alive when he said he was dead. Chris clenches his jaw tight, feeling the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Mark’s being greeted and hugged by the rest of the crew, so Chris vanishes from the room. He feels the emotions setting in, crawling up and ripping at his lungs as if they’re ready to burst from his chest. It’s overwhelming for him, because he just can’t wrap his head around what’s happening.

When he reaches the medical bay to wait for Mark, Chris lets his guard down. Wave upon wave of freshly formed tears break the barriers and roll down his cheeks, leaving streaks on his skin. He chokes on the sobs that fall from his mouth, sniffling loudly while pressing the hem of his sweater sleeve to his nose to try and stop it. But it didn’t work for him, he’d gone too long without feeling this emotional for somebody he cared so much about. There was relief in his sobs, but the guilt still lingered to taunt him, making him cry even harder.

_“Chris?”_

There was a knock on the other side of the door, with a familiar voice too, bringing out a weak smile in Chris. _Why are you knocking on the door you idiot?_ he thought.

“In here,” he replied, his voice strained and watery.

The door slid open as Chris turned away, keeping his back to Mark while getting some supplies ready to examine Mark’s health and possible injuries. He chewed on his bottom lip, fighting to hold back the tears which started to make his eyes sting. If Chris weren’t so secretly sensitive to certain situations such as anything to do with Mark he’d easily manage to get through this with no problems. But given that Mark was now sitting of the several bunks in the bay, only arms length away from him, the realisation started to kick in.

“Thought you didn’t want to see me, you left so quick,” Mark joked.

Chris laughed wetly, angrily wiping tears away and reaching for some bandages for any wounds that needed dressing. He didn’t know how to respond, it felt surreal, like he was in a dream. _Because how in the hell did Mark manage to survive?_ Chris wanted to know everything, but didn’t know where to start.

“I wanted to get here and gather some supplies so I could asses you,” he murmured, rested his arm over his eyes to soak the remaining tears into his sweater.

“Aw, bossy Beck looking out for me,” Mark chuckled, before groaning from the pain in his ribs.

“Just doing my job Watney,” Chris said, picking up the dressings and wipes to disinfect any open wounds.

He sat them on a table by the bunks, grabbing a wipe first to clean dirt off of Mark.

“You smell a little,” he commented.

Mark snorted.

“Haven’t exactly had a decent shower yet,” he replied.

“Can you lift your sweater up,” Chris instructed.

“Whatever you say Dr. Beck,” he hummed.

The younger man began looking over several cuts and bruises on Mark’s abdomen, most of them being only small, but there were two or three cuts that needed a dressing. He grabbed another wipe and gently cleaned the area around a cut, before dabbing it carefully to clear dried blood and dirt away. Mark hissed at the sting every time, but didn’t show any signs of severe pain when Chris lightly prodded some bruises while disinfecting the cuts.

“You’re quiet,” Mark stated.

“I’ve always been quiet,” Chris muttered.

Truth was, he didn’t want to break down in tears again and was struggling to do so. Simply touching Mark, feeling his ribs against his hand with each breath the older man took had Chris on the verge of letting the levee break. _You’re being ridiculous Chris, cut it out_ he said to himself.

“Not _this_ quiet,” Mark uttered.

“I’ll give you painkillers for those ribs and you can’t do anything that moves your torso a lot such as bending over or doing heavy lifting. Your ribs need to rest and heal. I would wrap them with a compression wrap, but that’s unfavoured now because your ribs still need to move so you can breathe. It’s linked to lung infections and pneumonia too. So, I think some cool packs on your ribs should be the first thing you start with. If they get too sore or uncomfortable, I’ll wrap them, but only loosely so you can still breathe,” Chris issued, trying to avoid the subject completely.

“Chris,” Mark mumbled.

“Stand up,” Chris ordered, after dressing the last cut and reaching for some cool packs he’d spread out.

Mark frowned.

“Chris…” he spoke, again.

Chris continued to ignore the voice screaming at him in his head, as well as Mark’s, applying the cool packs over parts of Mark’s ribs. He taped them down securely but not too tightly to restrict Mark from breathing, before grabbing the hem of Mark’s sweater and tugging it back down. By then Mark was beginning to get annoyed at Chris’ stubbornness, he hadn’t seen him for almost a year he could at least give him something to show him that Chris wasn’t as stubborn as he looked.

“Stop,” he snapped, grasping Chris’ wrist firmly.

The younger man froze, letting his hand fall against Mark’s, that was his first mistake. His second mistake was staring at Mark, straight in the eye, showing his glassy, red rimmed eyes with the dark, sleep deprived circles under them. Mark stared back, eyes widened a fraction, stirring the panic in Chris who just wanted to run and hide now. He yanked his wrist free from Mark’s grip, noticing the hurt spread across the man’s face, only adding fuel to guilt that Chris already had with him.

“Chris are you okay?” he asked.

That blew it, seeing Mark look at him with worry and a small bout of affection tore down the wall Chris was cowering behind. He wanted to bury himself in Mark’s arms, not letting go until he really had to, he wanted to run his fingers through Mark’s hair just to hear him hum sweetly. He’d known this because Beth ruffled Mark’s hair on their mission to Mars and Mark hummed and purred like a damn cat because of it. Chris wanted to kiss him to make sure he wasn’t living in a nightmare that wanted to taunt him into thinking Mark was there. His heart ached for Mark when he was gone, but it ached even more now that he was standing in front of him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Mark prompted, sitting back down with a huff after a jab of pain in his sides.

Chris needed to leave.

“I’m fine,” he lied, averting his gaze quickly. “It’s not like I missed you or anything,” he choked out, voice breaking as he spoke because he _did_ miss him.

A force held him back, that force being Mark who had his hand on Chris’ arm now. He pulled him back until Chris was standing in the space between his legs, tears hanging on for dear life in the corners of his eyes. Chris was trembling and choking on the remnants of cries that still hadn’t hit home yet. Mark brought his other hand up to rest it on the nape of Chris’ neck, hearing the younger man’s breath hitch sharply. _He knew…_

“Beth told me,” he whispered.

Then Mark leant forward, guiding Chris down a little and closing the distance. Chris expected Mark’s lips to be rough and chapped, but they were as soft as velvet, barely brushing Chris’ just to test the waters. His fingers were splayed against the back of Chris’ neck, thumb resting under the younger man’s ear as he deepened the kiss. Their lips moved together, exploring new territory to figure out what they both liked. Chris could feel his heart pounding in his chest, ready to give in at any moment from the shock of Mark kissing him.

Yet that died down when Chris needed to breathe and process what was happening. However, all he could do was whimper against Mark’s mouth, prompting the older man to part from him. He broke free of the strings strangling him from the emptiness he’d felt in his heart for a year, inhaling shakily and reaching out for Mark. Chris sobbed uncontrollably, his head falling against Mark’s chest with shaking shoulders, fingers curling into Mark’s sweater for reassurance and comfort. Mark placed his forehead against the top of Chris’ head, smoothing his fingers through his hair and helping him through the emotions that finally bubbled over.

“Let it out Chris, let it out,” he soothed.

Chris loosely put his arms around Mark’s neck, hiding his face into the crook of it also inhaling the smell that Mark always seemed to have. He choked on every breath he took, muffling his cries on Mark’s sweater which only intensified in volume when he realised that it was real and the man he loved was with him.

“Shh, Chris,” Mark hushed, dropping a few kisses to Chris’ cheek and jaw, rubbing his hand up and down his back.

Mark smiled weakly, blinking away his own salty tears that stung his eyes. He hated hearing that Chris broke his heart over him when he was presumed dead. It only made this moment he had with his favourite bossy doctor all the more worthwhile.

“I missed you too you know,” he wavered.

“I thought you were dead and I made the call, I’m so sorry Mark,” Chris said, sniffling and wiping his stupid snotty nose on his sleeve again.

“Don’t be,” he huffed out. “I’m here that’s all that matters,” he added.

Chris moved slightly, turning his head to glance at Mark, only for confirmation and further reassurance that he was in fact there. His mouth found Mark’s again, arms wrapping tighter around his neck, Mark’s hands pressing on his lower back to keep them chest to chest. This kiss was different to the first one, one with more passion and effort from Chris unlike the surprise of their first. He exhaled deeply through his nose, tilting his head in every which way to find the best angle.

Somewhere in the main part of Hermes they could hear Martinez yelling about seeing the pair of them locking lips and Johanssen clapping and exclaiming _‘mission accomplished!’_ at the top of her lungs. The pair laughed breathlessly, pulling from the kiss, bumping their foreheads and noses together and gazing at each other. He had the most important person in his life back, by a miracle. Chris didn’t know that he could feel so happy about one person, let alone someone like Mark.

“Just so you know, I love you,” Mark admitted.

“I guessed that,” Chris answered, shaking his head with a wide grin on his face. “I love you too,” he sighed.

Mark swiped tears away from Chris’ cheeks, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones and down to his jaw, his left thumb running over Chris’ bottom lip.

“So I think you owe me a year’s worth of kisses and love,” he said.

Chris laughed and drew his bottom lip in with teeth.

“I think I can manage that. Dr. Beck’s special cure,” he crowed.

“Oh, I think I’d like that,” Mark groaned, lowly, dragging Chris up onto the bunk. “They don’t call you Dr. Love for nothing,” he teased.

“Shut up, Potato Man,” Chris scoffed, bringing him in closer to seal the deal.

_Mark was home…and Chris Beck wouldn’t have it any other way._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr if you want to come cry or scream about these two nerds with me: [x-crossbones-x](http://x-crossbones-x.tumblr.com/)


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